by Sheryl Lynn
“He said you’re the general manager. I looked it up on the Internet. Nice web site. Did you create it?”
A trace of pride shone in her eyes. “Actually, my sister does our on-line advertising. She’s very artistic. Elk River is a family operation. I cannot leave my job. My family depends on me. Not to mention I’m hosting a party for my parents. We’ll have guests from all over the world. It’s their fortieth anniversary.”
“Forty years of marriage, huh? My parents can’t make it to seven years no matter how many times they try.” In answer to her puzzled look, he added, “My mother gave up after five marriages. Dad is working on wife number six.” He laughed—making jokes beat feeling bitterness over his screwed-up family. “I ought to be in the Guinness Book of World Records for greatest number of stepparents.”
“I’m...sorry,” she said.
He waved a hand in dismissal. “But back to you. When did the stalking start?”
She lifted the shopping bag onto the desk and gestured for him to look inside. “A year ago. I was having lunch with a friend here in Colorado Springs. Pinky stole my Day-Timer.”
He peeked inside the bag. It contained envelopes, most of them pink, plus cassette tapes and bundles of cards in all shapes and sizes. An impressive collection for only a year’s time. “I take it you’re the type of lady who carries her life in a book?”
Her eyes narrowed and her full lips thinned. Her expressiveness startled him, enchanted him. No glamour magazine cutout she, but a living, breathing mortal.
“No offense intended. But some people are organizers and some aren’t. What was in the Day-Timer?”
“Everything.” A faint blush blossomed on her cheeks.
Daniel suppressed a sigh.
“Names, addresses, my schedule. It was right before Christmas, so it contained information about my entire year. The first letter arrived a week later. He sent a box of chocolates, too. I threw them away. The letters and gifts kept coming. When I realized he wouldn’t stop, I began saving them. I keep looking for clues. He knows all about me, but I know nothing about him.”
“What about the cassette tapes? You’re taping phone calls?”
She twisted a hank of hair around her fingers. “He’s never called me. The tapes are recordings of love songs, religious sermons and radio commercials. It’s a jumble of nonsense. I don’t know why he sends them.”
“Maybe he’s hearing messages from you. He’s letting you know he’s receiving them.”
“Please...”
“I’m serious. One stalker was convinced his victim sent him daily messages via the Geraldo Rivera show. He spent hours transcribing every word so he didn’t miss any messages.”
“That’s insane.”
“That’s delusion at work.”
She rolled her eyes. “At first I was angry because I was certain he stole my Day-Timer. Then I thought he would grow bored and give up. But the letters have grown increasingly personal. It’s as if he knows everything about my life. He knows everything I do.” She closed her eyes for a moment and sat perfectly still. When she looked at him, her expression held a tremulous plea that touched him deeply. “Very little frightens me, but Pinky scares me to death. I don’t like it. I won’t tolerate it. Can you help me, Mr. Tucker?”
“I’ll do my best.” He began emptying the bag, sorting the contents into stacks of letters, cards and cassette tapes. “You haven’t told anybody about Pinky? Your parents? Friends?”
“No, and I have no intention of doing so. My father is seventy-seven years old. He doesn’t need the stress. I want this problem solved with the least amount of fuss as possible.”
He suspected her need for privacy went much deeper than concern about her father’s age. He’d talk with her about it later.
“The party I’m giving for my parents is very important. We’re hosting a family reunion, plus, friends we haven’t seen in years will be attending. I can’t cancel the party just to make Pinky happy.”
“You’re right about that. It would only encourage him. Let me sort through this mess. I’ll see what I can pick up, maybe come up with a profile about his character. Then we’ll discuss strategy.”
A trace of a smile curved her luscious mouth. She opened her slim handbag and withdrew a leather-bound checkbook. “About your fee—”
“I don’t have a fee.”
“Pardon?”
He adored the way she said that. All snooty and refined, like a princess momentarily ruffled by the riffraff. “I have more money than I know what to do with.”
“I pay for whatever services I receive.”
“I don’t take cash from stalking victims.” He cocked his head, studying the gentle contours of her oval face and the sculpted lines of her cheekbones. He resisted examining her shoulders and breasts, but awareness of her alluring body heated his blood. He’d like to have her in his debt.
He’d really like to have her in his bed. Thaw the ice, rev her engine, goad her into calling him darling—and mean it. He pushed his tongue against his palate and kept his mouth shut. Now would definitely be a bad time to let her know what he was thinking. Especially since the frigid glare she gave him said she suspected exactly what he was thinking.
“How about a trade?”
She tilted her head to one side. “A trade?”
“I get rid of Pinky, you give me a honeymoon.”
“Pardon?” Her voice had risen slightly, and the corners of her mouth twitched.
Seeing her fight a smile convinced him that heat pulsed beneath her icy veneer. “You’ve got the Honeymoon Hideaway, right? Fancy cabins, room service, moonlight and romance. I could really go for that. Can you set up a honeymoon for me?”
“I could....” She relaxed—Daniel nearly melted into a puddle beneath the desk. “Are you engaged to be married?”
I’m going to marry you.
The thought shocked him. Still, the sheer rightness glowed in his being like a bright, white light. The last time intuition had struck so hard he’d impulsively purchased a lottery ticket and changed his life forever.
“Not yet. We’ll just keep it open ended.”
She lowered her gaze to the checkbook. “I’m going to have to think about this. Perhaps I haven’t explored all my options.”
He touched the stacks of pink envelopes and fancy cards. He knew he could help her. He needed to help her. One way or another he had to see her again. “If you give me twenty-four hours to study Pinky, I can outline a plan of attack. Then you can decide if you want my help.”
“I’d be more comfortable if this were strictly business.”
“Barter is as good as cash. So what do you say?” He extended a hand over the desk.
“Well...J.T. does highly recommend you.” She shook hands with him. Her skin was cool and silky. Luckily for Daniel the desk was between them, or he’d have drawn her hand to place over his heart.
“I’ll buy you dinner, then. Tomorrow, seven o’clock.”
She cast him a cutting glance that might have cowed a lesser man. Daniel was enchanted. Finding the key to unlock her icy heart might prove to be the most enjoyable challenge of his life.
“I doubt your girlfriend would approve.”
“Business, Ms. Duke, to discuss Pinky. How about we meet halfway, in Woodland Park? The Alpine, seven o’clock.”
Her eyes acquired a gleam as she gave him a long, considering look. With unconscious grace she slid one hand along the edge of her lapel. Those elegant fingers trailed tantalizingly over the rise of her bosom. Daniel’s heartbeat thudded heavily in his ears.
“Do you really think you can help me?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Very well,” she said. “Seven o’clock, the Alpine. Don’t be late.” She glanced at the dart stuck in the door frame. A half smile appeared and stole the remainder of his heart. “Do leave your toys at home.” She strolled out the door.
Daniel stared at the tantalizing sway of her hips.
Pumped u
p by the prospect of becoming a hero in the enchanting Ms. Duke’s eyes, he tackled the contents of the Neiman Marcus bag. He didn’t know squat about anonymous stalkers, but he was a quick study.
He’d find a way to get rid of Pinky or die trying.
Chapter Two
Keys in hand, Janine studied the parking lot. Despite the bright sun shining over the mountains, the temperature hovered in the thirties. She shivered. Until Pinky entered her life she’d been as safety conscious as any reasonably intelligent woman should be. Nowadays she was downright paranoid.
Daniel Tucker hadn’t been what she expected. Her cousin had talked about him, claiming him more like family than an employer. She’d imagined an authority figure with a wall full of credentials and a serious demeanor. An ex-cop or an attorney, perhaps a Raymond Burr look-alike. Instead, Daniel had an impudent air and a smart-aleck mouth. Baskets of toys filled his reception area and his office looked like a big kid’s playground, full of desk toys, fancy electronic gadgetry, far too many house plants, and silly posters on the walls.
And handsome! She hadn’t expected him to be so ridiculously good-looking. Eye candy, her sister would dub him.
His reaction to her didn’t bother her. She was used to men fixating on her body parts. She didn’t like being treated like a bimbo, but she was used to it.
Her reaction to him, however...
His staring and open admiration hadn’t annoyed her the way such ogling usually did. She’d indulged in a bit of ogling herself. She’d even flirted; she never did that.
She pulled sunglasses from her handbag and jammed them on her face. Too old for silly flirtations and crushes, she wasn’t the least bit interested in him as an attractive man.
She hurried to the Jeep, unlocked the door and jumped inside, pulling the door shut with a slam. She hit the door locks. Windows on the second floor of the office building drew her gaze. In Daniel’s cluttered office she’d felt safe.
She’d dreaded the appointment and had almost chickened out. She’d expected a humiliating encounter, with Daniel patronizing her as if she were too stupid to handle Pinky by herself. Instead, she’d felt a kinship, a sense of not being so alone. By being so open about his own stalker, he’d made her feel comfortable enough to share her story. The connection and safety she’d felt accounted for his attractiveness.
She prayed Daniel could help her. She wanted her life back. She craved peace and privacy. If he could help her, let him flirt all he wanted.
SOFT KNOCKING broke Daniel’s concentration. When J.T. McKennon walked into the office, Daniel smiled in greeting. J.T. wore his work uniform, a red T-shirt with the Full Circle logo and black trousers. He plopped a briefcase on the desk.
“I saw the lights on when I was driving past. I figured you were still working. When are you going to get a life?”
“After I finish saving the world from evil. Should take me a few more weeks.” He glanced at his watch, surprised to see how late it was. No wonder his stomach growled. “Did you work late?”
“Shari has the flu. I took over her self-defense class.” He popped the latches on the briefcase. “I brought the payroll.”
Daniel used a remote control to turn off the stereo. He’d been listening to the cassette tapes Pinky had given Janine. The lament-filled love ballads and psychobabble commentary were giving him a headache. “You should have canceled the class, man. Frankie doesn’t like you working late.”
“She took the boy to see her sister. You know how it is when the girls get to talking. I’ll probably beat them home.” He jutted his chin at the calendar pages and correspondence Daniel had spread out on a worktable. “What’s all that?”
The stalker was a prolific writer, sometimes sending three or four letters a week. The majority of letters were five or more pages long. All the letters were dated, and most were notated with the time. Curious as to whether Pinky’s interest waxed and waned according to some predictable cycle, Daniel had sorted the correspondence into chronological order.
Using black ink for letters, blue for cassettes and green for greeting cards, he’d filled in a calendar according to when items were received. He circled in red any envelope that didn’t bear a postmark.
Cards clustered at mid-month and the end of the month. The cards were embossed and foiled, and many were oversize. All were filled with mushy doggerel that passed for poetry among the sentimental set. The prices printed on the backs of them showed the majority were in the five-dollar range. Pinky might be buying cards when he cashed a biweekly paycheck.
“What did Janine tell you about her problem?”
J.T. paused in the midst of pulling files from the briefcase. “Janine contacted you?”
“Called me, made an appointment and showed up right on time. You’re surprised?”
He lifted a shoulder in a rolling shrug. “I’m surprised she asked for help.” He chuckled.
“What’s funny?”
“Frankie’s going to kill me.”
“Why?”
“You know how she’s been lately. Ever since she got pregnant, she’s been playing matchmaker. If she isn’t eating, she’s plotting how to marry off her single friends. She wanted to have you and Janine over for dinner. Her words—you’d make a cute couple.”
“She still can.” It flattered him that Frankie thought he was good enough for her lovely cousin.
J.T. swung his head. “Won’t be the same. Oh, well. So what’s going on? She didn’t give me details.”
Daniel debated how much to tell. Since hiring J.T. to run the studios, they’d formed a solid friendship. J.T., Frankie and their little boy had become the family Daniel always longed for. He trusted the big man like a brother, but he also respected Janine’s privacy. Still, J.T. was her cousin-in-law and he would never gossip. Daniel needed someone to bounce his thoughts off of.
“She’s in trouble.”
“How much trouble?”
“On a scale of one to ten, about a twenty. An anonymous stalker is making death threats against her father. Look at this.”
He pointed out the marked-up calendar pages and envelopes. What bothered him most were the postmarks. The first letters were postmarked from Colorado Springs, then a March letter bore a Cripple Creek postmark. After that the postmarks came from small towns like Woodland Park, Midland and Florrisant—all within easy driving distance of Elk River. None of the letters in June or beyond bore a Colorado Springs postmark. By September half the envelopes lacked a postmark. In December, only two letters bore a postmark. None in January had one.
J.T. grunted. “Hand delivering mail. That’s not good.”
“According to the maps, the lands surrounding the resort are either Bureau of Land Management or national forest. I’m betting this joker lives at Elk River.” Daniel hadn’t read all the letters, but what he had read told him Pinky considered Janine his personal property and he was getting frustrated with a one-sided relationship. “Why is she so insistent about keeping it hush-hush?”
“I couldn’t tell you.” J.T. made a musing noise. “Except she’s the independent type. Frankie calls her Wonder Woman.” He picked up a pink envelope. “This has been going on for a year?”
“Yep. I’m putting an end to it, if she’ll let me. What’s her soft spot?”
“What do you have in mind?”
At the man’s suspicious tone, Daniel’s grin widened. J.T. was as staunchly loyal as a Buckingham Palace guard, but Janine was his cousin-in-law and he’d die to protect his family. “Not what you’re thinking, my man. My intentions are pure.” Sort of. “Her situation calls for some serious intervention, but I get the impression she isn’t enamored about the way I do business.”
J.T. took his time answering. “Soft spots and Janine don’t mesh.”
Daniel scanned the paragraph that threatened her father. “How close is she to her old man?”
“The colonel?” J.T. blew a long breath. “As far as she’s concerned, he can do no wrong. From what I’ve seen, t
he feeling is mutual.”
Interesting.
Daniel tossed out ideas about how to handle Pinky. J.T.’s background in personal security and experience as a bodyguard made his suggestions sound.
As J.T. was leaving, Daniel asked, “So, Janine is available?”
The big man turned his head to look over his shoulder. “If you mean, is she single, then yes. But available, probably not.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, she doesn’t take crap off anybody.” A slow grin brightened his face. “And you, my friend, are full of crap.”
BY THE NEXT EVENING, when Daniel parked at the Alpine restaurant in Woodland Park, he knew without a doubt that Janine Duke desperately needed his help. He stepped out of his Tahoe. He inhaled deeply the crisp mountain air. Patches of snow marked the edges of the parking lot. He eyeballed the distance between his vehicle and the car next to it. He’d picked up the Tahoe from the dealer a few days ago, and wanted no dings or scratches on its pristine paint job.
At the restaurant door he glimpsed his reflection in the glass. He stroked a hand over the side of his hair and adjusted his tie. One real benefit of winning the Lotto had been discovering how great he looked in an Armani suit.
Inside, he spotted Janine. Seated at a window table, she stared at the traffic on Highway 24, or perhaps at the mountains beyond.
Janine spotted Daniel’s reflection in the window glass. Her breath caught. In a dark gray, double-breasted suit cut to emphasize his broad shoulders and narrow waist, he was even better looking than she remembered, and a fluttery sensation rose in her chest.
A mistake, she thought. She shouldn’t be asking for help from a stranger. Pinky hadn’t sent a letter today. What was the big deal about letters, anyway? For the most part the letters, cards and gifts were innocuous. As disconcerting as it was to have a secret admirer, she could live with it.
Daniel met her gaze in the window glass. She tried to ignore the fluttering that now touched her belly. “You’re late,” she said.
“I’m right on time. You’re early.” He sat and picked up a menu.
